Glance
by HaneGaNai
Summary: AU collection of drabbles with different xxx/Ichigo pairings. Ura/Ichi, Srarrk/Ichi, Hichi/Ichi, Kon/Ichi, Grimm/Ichi, Ichi/Izuru and Renji/Ichigo are already up. Every one of them has sees Ichigo in a different light, but they are all drawn to him.
1. Ensnared

**Title**: Ensnared

**Pairing**: Urahara/Ichigo

**Words**: 1000

**Warnings**: AU, OOC-ness, silly ideas;

**A/N: **I had a little fight with myself on this one. It was supposed to be Ura/Ichi at first, then changed to Hichi/Ichi and now it's back to Kiichigo again. If things will work out nicely it will be a collection of drabbles with different Bleach characters after Ichigo. Um, enjoy?

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Bleach or any of the characters.

~*~

A silent 'ding' announced that they reached yet another stop on their way up. Some of the passengers left. A few new faces joined filling the empty places the other's left. The door closed and the journey up continued.

Urahara Kisuke was among the ones that were still waiting for the right floor to come. Though he usually wasn't in any hurry to get anywhere at work, today, he was surprisingly a rather impatient passenger. Crossing his arms at his chest, foot tapping the floor angrily, his huffing disturbing the otherwise calm atmosphere in the elevator.

_Come on, move faster, move faster! _

Normally, he wouldn't care less that he'd make a client wait for him. He could sweet-talk anybody and he could get away with everything with a single, charming smile of his or with a bit of flirting. He was just that hot.

Today however was not his day.

He got up late – nothing unusual. But today it was a sprouting headache that woke him up. He had a nasty hangover. Urahara should have known better than to party with Yoruichi in the middle of the week, Wednesday was most certainly not fit for the title of little-Friday. It didn't help that the purple haired woman could hold her liquor better than him and liked to have him all plastered – and she probably used the opportunity to collect blackmail material.

Wondering briefly what his long-time friend managed to get from him last night to leave him seemingly unharmed (meaning without dying his hair pink or anything equally childish like she did last month) the blonde had untangled himself from the sheets and went to the bathroom to take a quick shower. He intending a nice soft awakening in the shower, but what he did however, was curse loudly as he slipped and fell on his ass when, instead of a soothingly hot spray, icy cold water hit his skin. His skin suddenly feeling too tight for his own body as it instantly turned into goosebumbs.

Still cursing under his breath he toweled himself hastily, tied the towel around his waist and moved over to the sink. He thought about shaving – boys and girls liked him smooth - but in the end decided that he'd probably cut himself in the process. A shady look suited him best anyway. He dressed quickly and left for work not bothering with breakfast.

And so here he was, giving the metal door a look that would have the elevator take up speed, if only it could sense his foul mood. And it would release a sight of relief, when it finally reached his floor and Urahara stormed off not bothering with being polite to people as he shoved them out of his way. If they ever thought of complaining he'd kill the nasty words with one of his unfailing smiles. But not at the moment. Right now he needed to get to his office fast – he didn't feel up to be called on the carpet by old-man Yamamoto today.

All things considered, he couldn't be blamed for walking into somebody in his rush. Even more so since the other party was in a hurry as well. Documents and photos were everywhere, some of them still in the air, his ass in pain. A silent 'oww' followed by a curse could be heard from somewhere in front of him. He stood up with a wince and dusted off his suit. He looked down on the man who was currently shuffling through papers on all fours trying to collect them and set them in order at the same time. His vibrant hair caught Urahara's attention – a mass of spiky, orange tresses. _What an interesting color_, he thought momentarily enthralled by the scene before him. But even more interesting were his eyes. All of a sudden, he couldn't move under the weight of that gaze. Brown eyes with flecks of gold, piercing him with a strange intensity that left him staring. He couldn't breathe. He just stood there with his mouth open like an idiot for three eternity-long seconds as their eyes met. The young man then stood up, muttered a brief apology and left for the elevators, documents neatly collected back in his hands.

Urahara whirled around as the metal door was closing just in time to catch the last glimpse of orange. Without thinking much, he ran for the staircase and up letting his legs lead him.

A fleeting glance was all they shared. Three seconds, maybe less. But that short time left him flabbergasted. It shocked him to the core how a moment like that could make him forget all about his crappy morning. Those brown eyes were so beautiful, so striking. Expressive in so many ways. They looked at his with confusion, annoyance and apologies – all at the same time. The look had been a bit fierce pinning him to the floor immobilizing him. Those eyes held so much strength, so much stubbornness and resolution it left the blonde hungry for more. He wanted more of those eyes on him.

So he ran until he reached the last floor. He rushed to the elevator, but it was already going down. He looked around panting, feeling a bit desperate - a new feeling in his personal dictionary. He couldn't have missed him! And there's no way he could catch up to the elevator now, so he had to be here.

_There!_

Vibrant spikes steered through the hall in a rush. Now all that was left was for him to approach the redhead. Ah, screw his client and his boss! He went after the young man that caught his interest. And this time he wouldn't let him get away. Not without pestering his phone number out of him at least.

And to think that a glance had been enough. Three seconds were enough to captivate him. Him of all people. No, saying he was captivated was an understatement.

"Hey there, gorgeous."

He was hopelessly ensnared.


	2. Inflamed

**Title**: Inflamed

**Pairing**: Starrk/Ichigo

**Words**: 404

**Warnings**: Don't get burned.

**A/N: **It's my first time writing Starrk and I can't say I failed. Well, I don't feel like I did, anyway. But I might be wrong.

Oh! And there's a poll on my LJ/profile, go and vote for whatever it is that you want to read next.

**Beta**: zealot138

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Bleach or any of the characters.

--

Starrk was lost the very moment he saw him enter the room.

Ah, he was the most beautiful, deliciously hot, scorching walking sin Starrk had ever encountered. And boy, he'd pretty much give anything to get burned by the blazing fire that was Kurosaki Ichigo.

His outrageous hair the color of the setting sun; the expressive brown eyes with flecks of gold piercing through you to the very core of your being, striking with strength and stubbornness; the scowl that never disappeared no matter if it was him speaking or someone else, the pink lips set in a thin line looking so painfully tasty; the slender neck just begging to be marked; long fingers that were perfect for holding on tight, scratching, scorching, burning, leaving red marks on your back, setting you on fire.

Starrk didn't even try to pay attention to what his secretary was saying (Szayel could pretty much have been talking about how the color pink increased one's IQ, he couldn't care less). His whole being was focused on the other side of the conference table where the cause of his hard-on sat with his arms crossed and a really bored expression on his face. So sexy. He didn't even notice when the meeting ended until the orange head stood up from his chair, collected his papers and headed to the door. And for the first time in his life he didn't let the occasion go, because it was too troublesome or because sleeping was a much better option. No. He left his place behind the conference table, left everything behind for his secretary to take care of, and followed Ichigo out of the room. Not yet on his heels with his breath caressing the soft skin of the man's neck, but close enough for him not to lose sight of his interest as they maneuvered between people and cubicles.

Starrk didn't have a clue as to what he'd say once Kurosaki turned around or they reached a point where he won't be able to keep his presence hidden. The one thing he knew though was that no matter what happens – whether he'll get rejected or not - he'll be inflamed. Burned by the fire residing in the young man, the fire that he could already feel creeping its way into his heart making him feel alive, more alive than ever before in his life.

Alive and no longer alone.


	3. Moth

**Title**: Moth

**Pairing**: Hichi/Ichi

**Words**: 507

**Genre**: Romance/General; Poem-like

**Warning**: I wonder if Hichi isn't a bit OOC, heavy writing.

**Beta**: zealot1138

**A/N**: Um, not much to say 'bout this one except – I do not have an eye fetish XD. And yeah, it's not divided like a poem – I couldn't make myself rewrite it 'cuase I like the way it is right now – but since it's 'choppy' (I like that word XD) and poemish and rather heavy... Anyways!, enjoy whatever this is. I still have the feeling that Hichi is OOC, but I want to finally get this off of my mind. I know, I know, I should work more on my writing. Maybe next time =P.

Oh! And go an vote in the pool (either on my LJ or profile)!

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Bleach or any of the characters.

--

Those brown eyes, brown with flecks of gold, tarnished gold. Piercing to the core. With a light so blinding, immobilizing. Eyes holding so much strength, such stubborn resolution. Striking. Stunning. Expressive in so many ways.

Eyes that caught him off guard every time. Eyes that had him meeting them every time unable to look away. Eyes that had him yearning for more, coming back for more. Burning , setting on fire. That left him desperate.

Eyes.

Eyes that were his light. His source of life. Of strength. Even though he'd never admit that.

It wasn't like him to be so concentrated on one target, to try so hard to get someone (even if his methods were a bit unconventional). 'Trying hard' wasn't something he was used to. He was more of a 'my way or the highway' guy. It was the other that always had to do his best to keep his place in his bed as long as he could. Before he got bored or found someone more interesting.

But now.

He was like a moth struggling to get closer even though he knew he'd only get burned. Scorched by the light he longed to touch. And yet he couldn't stop himself. He teased, torched, tormented. He caused the trademark scowl to deepen even more, lips set in a line so thin that they were barely visible as the orange head struggled to keep his cool. Oh, such pleasure it brought Hichigo when the man finally gave up and yelled at full force showing for once that indeed, he wasn't an emotionless statue, but was very similar to his albino boss and name-calling was something they both were good at. It was in moments like these that he couldn't stop his words, that he crossed the line, that all of a sudden he was too close and his nose bled as he watched the Berry-boy leave the room fuming and throwing random things in random directions.

He couldn't help but smile through the streak of blood running down his lips. Burned again. He licked his lips approvingly thinking that that was a good hit, even though he could have avoided it easily. Could have.

Burned. He wondered how long will it take for his wings to be set on fire. How long before he'll fall.

He wasn't afraid of pain. He wasn't some kind of love struck pussy. Hell, he wasn't even in love. Hichigo just liked playing with fire.

He enjoyed mocking, throwing snide remarks, being yelled at, avoiding the hits when he knew that'll make the Strawberry pissed even more, but most of all he enjoyed the burning emotions in those vivid eyes and for once showing on his toy's face making Ichigo look alive. It burned twice as much. More. Hurt more. He couldn't get enough. He circled around him, knowing full well that with every circle he's getting closer. And closer. And soon.

"Burn baby," Hichigo laughed from his place on the floor looking up straight into those angry, bronze orbs. "Burn."


	4. Welcome home

**Title**: Welcome home

**Pairing**: Kon/Ichi

**Words**: 798

**Genre**: Romance/Humor

**Rating**: PG-13

**Warnings**: AU, first time writing Kon, BL, twincest (! XD)

**Beta**: FreakinMi

**A/N**: Never said that the drabbles set in the Glance Universe would be in order =P, so yeah, this would probably be the last of the drabbles if not for my muse attacking me in the shower XD. See anyone else you know?

And go vote in the poll! (even though I might finish them all before I'll close it XD)

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Bleach or any of the characters.

--

WHAM!

Kon peeked out the open office door from behind his computer screen as the front door was loudly slammed close and someone stormed into the apartment. Judging by the sound of shoes, a coat and a briefcase being thrown in random directions and, luckily, hitting the walls, Kon reckoned his younger twin just came back from another stressful day of work.

"Had a nice day? " He called from the office not even moving to see what was wrong with his brother. Ichigo was going to invade his room either way to bitch about his coworkers or that madman boss of his teasing him again and making him work twice as much, so why bother? Not that he had anything against it, a welcomed change from just flat out complaining about Kon.

"Shut up." The pissed man entered the room and started pacing around gesticulating viciously with his hands. Kon didn't stop typing for a moment though letting his twin vent out.

"Where the fuck do people like that come from!? I had to run for my life at the end of the day! First I was late for the meeting because of a blonde pervert that started hitting on me before I even stepped out of the elevator, then some guy from the other company stalked me all around the building, my fucked up boss tried to kiss me for fuck knows what time and I punched him pretty hard straight in the face, I think I might lose my job for that one." Ichigo suddenly stopped his circling, resting his face in his palm for a few seconds before revealing the sour expression covering his features.

"Then the redhead from the cubicle next to mine wouldn't leave me in peace so I had to stay longer to finish the last papers... some teal haired freak groped me in the elevator. Even the damn janitor saw his opportunity to get a piece!" Ichigo threw himself on the couch exhausted before continuing.

"Not a single girl. Do I give off gay vibes or something?"

"Is that rhetorical or do you want me to answer honestly?" Kon asked barely able to suppress laughter.

"Don't even try." Ichigo glared at him icily.

Kon knew he should probably pity his brother or get pissed at all those guys trying to get their dirty hands on _his_ Strawberry, but he had already gotten used to situations like that. In fact, it made him proud that his lover was an object of desire to so many men. Though, with them being twins and looking very much alike, it made him wonder why it never happened to him. Perhaps once or twice in his life time, but never like Ichigo. Maybe he really gave off gay vibes.

An airy moan from the screen interrupted his train of thoughts.

"Making another hentai game?" Ichigo now stood behind him leaning in and against Kon's back to better see the computer screen.

"Someone has to earn money in case your temper gets you fired because you got in a fist-fight with your boss." The elder of the Kurosaki brothers teased.

"What was I supposed to do then? Let him kiss me? Stick his tongue in my mouth and moan at his advances?"

Kon didn't like the idea one bit. He might not mind them hitting on his lover, but touching his twin might lead to bloodshed. Kon was really proud of how good he handled sharp objects; he probably inherited his skills from their idiot father – the only thing he was thankful for.

"You could have run away or something. It's not as if he glued you to the floor, right?"

The only answer he got was Ichigo mumbling under his nose.

"Hm?"

"That woman's breasts are bigger than her head." The younger of the twins pointed at the screen.

"Yeah, big–"

"Enormous is a better word." Ichigo butted in.

"– soft and warm." Kon continued in a dreamy voice ignoring his brother. "Ah, I can imagine how nice they'd feel under my head - just like a pillow. And that lovely valley."

Ichigo crossed his arms at his chest and turned his head with a huff. How cute.

Kon turned his office chair and pulled Ichigo down by his tie roughly bringing him down so they were face to face and kissed him. The Strawberry christened man made a muffled sound and tried to move away surprised by Kon, but the moment his older brother bit on his lower lip he leaned back in and started kissing back. The kiss was soft, a simple sweet dance that lasted long enough to have them panting and yet not enough at all.

"Welcome home, Ichi." Kon smiled at his brother and pulled at the tie again.


	5. Ace of spades

**Title**: Ace of spades

**Pairing**: Grimmjow/Ichigo

**Genre**: Romance/Humor

**Rating**: PG-13

**Words**: 1,123

**Warning**: first time writing Grimmjow; language;

**Summary**: He was a hunter and he wouldn't let any prey get away.

**A/N:** Fifth in the Glance Collection.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Bleach or any of the characters.

He was a hunter and his preys wore brands.

It came with the looks. The handsome face, lecherous stare, a smirk that promised things you never even dared to imagine, pleasure no one else could give; the well toned body, the mile-long legs. The very way he moved had you dripping and begging for more.

He targeted anything that was hot enough to make his cock stir, but at the same time was wise enough to try and run away or fight his charm. He preferred when they put a fight even if they were bound to lose. He liked them feisty.

It didn't matter if you were a woman or a man, gay or straight, in your early twenties or just turned forty-two. If you managed to catch his interest your fate was foregone.

Sex was in the way his name rolled off his tongue.

"Grimmjow Jeagerjaques."

With that said the game was on.

The next thing you knew he was pounding into you fast and hard fucking your brain out or long and agonizingly slow as his hips worked to bring you pleasure out of this world. And once you've had a taste of it nothing could even compare.

The second you asked him to stay he was dressed and outside the door and hunting down a new prey. One of many rules of his game.

He played the cards where you would never even come close to being an Ace and only a card that high could try to get a hold of him.

And thus it seemed like the Joker would remain free.

Now that was a nice piece of ass. Round and firm and oh fuck he could already feel how tight it was. It made him shudder with anticipation.

He'd pound that. He'd pound that soon.

But it wasn't all about the tasty rump.

The well toned body, the long legs that were perfect for wrapping around him and pulling him close, the handsome face. The scowl.

Yeah, that damn scowl.

It stirred interest. Made him want to break the kid's mask and bring out all the emotions he could from him. Pleasure, pain, anger, hunger. He wanted it all. He'd take it all.

Kurosaki Ichigo.

That man was at least a King.

–

The hunt began from observation.

Working in the same company only a few ranks above his prey, he could watch the orange head from his office.

He could see him interact with his coworkers, fend off the idiot albino again and again, see how he almost never smiled.

And yet, despite the kid's seemingly cold nature people were drawn to him. Maybe for the same reasons as Grimmjow. Maybe there was more to it.

Whatever it was, Kurosaki had an aura that hardly ever let him be alone.

But that was never much of a problem.

–

The young man proved to be as feisty as Grimmjow expected. And man could the little fucker bite. He was treated much like the albino, though an angry fist had yet to kiss his jaw.

The kid kept a relatively safe distance and avoided him at all cost, but he couldn't hide. Grimmjow would find him wherever he'd be. There was no hiding from a hunting panther.

The Joker worked his charms on the orange head. Whispered sultry promises with a simple smile that had the kid blushing madly and looking away. Invaded his personal space yet never got close enough to touch his prey. Seduced him with his teal eyes every time Kurosaki looked his way.

Words? They were there of course, but were kept simple and safe leaving the interpretation to the kid. Letting him decided what he wanted to hear, though the meaning was one.

You couldn't fight the fire that Grimmjow Jeagerjaques was.

–

The day they met in the elevator Kurosaki looked like he was running away from someone.

The kid jumped into the elevator as soon as the door opened and pressed the button for them to close faster sighing in relief only after the elevator continued its way down.

They were all alone in the confined space which the orange head had yet to realize.

"Running from the albino freak?" Grimmjow asked in a teasing voice.

Kurosaki turned around abruptly finally spotting the teal haired man. Yup, there's that scowl again.

"What the hell are you doing here?" The kid questioned him.

"You don't expect me to take the stairs to get down from the 30th floor to the parking, do you?" The Joker arched an eyebrow. Then smirked. "Or were you thinking I'm stalking you?"

"You're trying to tell me you're not?" Kurosaki accused. "You've been chasing after me for two weeks now, you bastard."

Grimmjow shook his head.

"No, no, no. I'm not some fucking starved dog to 'chase you around', kid." He looked the orange head in the eyes with a grin and winked. "It's way too low for a man like me."

"You're full of crap." Kurosaki's scowl deepened. "What will you call what you've been doing up till now then?" He asked crossing his arms.

The teal haired man took a few steps closer at what the kid moved back. Grimmjow moved closer until his prey's back hit the metal wall.

"Hunting."

He invaded the kid's personal space, his hands on either side of his head, but it looked like the young man wouldn't give in that easily.

"How is it different?"

"I had my eyes on you much longer than you think – that's the difference. I let you notice that I'm after you." With each word the tone of his voice is deeper, darker, dripping. The way Kurosaki blushed for him – he could hardly stop himself from licking the orange head's cheek.

"If I didn't you wouldn't notice me catching you until you'd find yourself beneath me moaning my name. Begging for more."

"Like that would ever happen." The young man turned his face away from Grimmjow's gaze. Even his ears were red now.

"Oh, I'm sure it will." Unable to stop himself he licked the shell of Kurosaki's ear.

A second later he was rubbing his jaw and smirking at an angry orange head. The kid wanted him.

"Get the fuck away from me, asshole."

The door opened with a ding and Kurosaki rushed out pushing through a little crowed that was waiting for the elevator.

Yeah, he burned from him.

The kid wasn't a King. Oh no. He wasn't just an Ace either. He was an Ace of spades. And there was no way Grimmjow would let him get away.


	6. Don't be nice

**Title**: Don't be nice

**Pairing**: Ichigo/Izuru; one-sided

**Genre**: Angst/Romance

**Rating**: PG-13

**Words**: ~1,800

**Warning**: bit of sexual harassment

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing.

**Note**: I'm sorry for being silent for such a long time. Work and writer's block were in my way. That's why I hope you'll enjoy this fic (that was supposed to be a drabble) that just kept growing and growing on me into a sort of apology for the long delay.

When he thought about it later on their first meeting was just like in one of those romance novels. So cliché.

He was on his way to work; squeezed tightly between the door and the crowd behind him desperately trying not to think.

It was always like this. Each and every time. That was why he avoided public means of transport at all cost. He even passed his driver's license for that reason alone. But his car broke down and he had no other choice. Three days and he would get his car back and he wouldn't have to endure this anymore.

_Only three more days, _he reminded himself trying to ignore the hands on his ass that pushed him further against the wall of the wagon. Izuru bit harder on his lower lip telling himself that it would be over soon. That only a few minutes were left till they'd reach the next stop and as soon as the door would open he could get off and away from his harasser.

He closed his eyes and desperately tried not to think, not to feel the puffs of rushed breathing against the skin of his neck, the fingers parting his butt cheeks, the guy pressing into him with his whole body.

_It'll be over soon. It'll end soon. Endure_, he repeated in his head like a mantra.

_Only a few more mi_-

A smack of something hard slapping against skin broke through his thoughts and suddenly there was free space behind him.

"Get the fuck away you friggin' pervert!" Someone called behind him. He didn't dare turn.

"Are you all right?" The same man asked him and the blond could see his apparent savior's eyes roaming over his body checking if everything was okay.

Kira didn't answer. The door opened and before that voice could call to him again he ran out of the underground and through the park wanting to get home as soon as possible.

He would never use the underground again. Ever. He'd give up on sleep and get up three hours earlier to get to his workplace by foot if that was necessary. He didn't need to sleep all that much anyways. Or he could call for a taxi and put up with morning traffic.

He'd do anything to never have to live through such embarrassment.

–

Later that day when Izuru was locking the door to his apartment on his way to the grocery store he met him again. And the cliché continued.

"Hey." He heard a man call behind him while he was in the process of slipping his keys into his pocket.

Thinking that the guy meant someone else he continued walking down the hall towards the glass door separating him from the clear blue and the soft breeze of autumn. He wasn't familiar with any of his neighbors so there was little possibility of someone calling for him.

"Hey you." The man called from a much closer distance this time and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Yes?" The blond turned with a sigh wondering whether he'd be able to find some peace and quiet today.

Standing before him was a young man who appeared a few years younger than him yet was slightly taller. His hair had a peculiar orange color that quite oddly suited the handsome face.

"You're the guy from the metro, right?" The orange head said pointedly. "From the afternoon."

"Um..." Was the only thing Kira managed feeling his cheeks heat up as he finally recognized the guy's voice. It was the voice of the man who saved him... and who saw him in such a compromising situation.

The blond squirmed in discomfort and willed for the world to collapse right here and now so he wouldn't have to live through it.

His rescuer watched him with his brown orbs and his features softened.

"It is you. Are you okay? You ran away so fast." The young man looked genuinely worried.

"... I'm okay." Izuru smiled nervously. "Thank you... for your help,... um?"

"Ichigo. Kurosaki Ichigo." The orange head prompted and reached out his hand. "We live on the same floor."

Kira grabbed the hand in a gentle handshake and felt himself calming down slowly under Ichigo's gaze.

"Kira Izuru."

–

It started from there. With that simple touch and the brown-eyed gaze. With the softened expression as the orange head asked for his well-being.

Surprisingly enough Izuru found himself accepting Ichigo's offer on going to work together every day. Same with getting back.

"We're going in the same direction anyway." Kurosaki said and there was no helping it. The young man was stubborn and wouldn't let Izuru repeat that he didn't want to bother him.

"Don't be stupid, Izuru, it's not a problem." The orange head said tenths of times before Kira finally calmed down.

It was odd how fast they became friends – though Izuru wouldn't use that strong of a word – considering how reserved the blond was with strangers or people he just met (no matter if they saved his rear or not). Not that the blond minded, not at all. Ichigo's company was refreshing. He was so boisterous, so expressive, he lived through each day with strength and stubbornness and such resolve that Izuru couldn't help but envy him. Look up to him. And fall in love. Deeply.

It didn't come as a surprise, it wasn't a sudden realization.

As soon as Izuru opened his eyes in the morning all he could think about was meeting Ichigo at the exit of their building. About spending the thirty minutes it took for them to reach Kurosaki's station together; talking, listening to Ichigo complain about his twin brother, getting poked in the side when he spaced out or the orange head simply thought he looked too gloomy. When he got to the office he was all business, but even when he was buried under mountains of paperwork and had barely any time to eat proper lunch he always found a minute or two to spend looking forwards to getting back home with Ichigo.

Then it was the underground again with meeting the younger man and watching the scowl on his face ease little by little as he ranted about his perverted boss or the crazy janitor or other 'interesting' people that got on his nerves that day. Kira loved his voice. He could listen to him for hours on end and still wouldn't get enough of it. Ichigo might be wearing a permanent scowl, but when he got agitated and tried his best to keep his expression unchanged the emotions in his voice would always give him away.

That and his eyes.

More often than he'd like to admit the blond found himself searching for Ichigo's gaze, searching for those mesmerizing brown orbs that were so deep he felt as if he might drown in them. And he wouldn't mind one bit. He wanted to learn what hid in those brown depths. He wanted to get to see the man's face without that scowl, see all the expressions Ichigo could make. Of course whenever Kurosaki would catch him staring Izuru would look away or pretend that he was looking at something behind him and hope his burning cheeks wouldn't give him away.

Izuru thought that it was those eyes that drew him so much to Ichigo. And it was Ichigo's kindness that broke his heart.

The way he cared so much for him, someone he met just weeks ago. How he treated him as a friend when they knew so little about each other. He rushed to his rescue even before he knew his name! And now glared at every suspicious man that stood to close to Izuru in the crowded wagon.

Before he met the orange head rush hours were pretty much a horror for him, now thought he enjoyed them. He enjoyed the feeling of Ichigo standing so close to him, feeling his breath on his nape or ear when he leaned in to tell him something. Or how they stood right next to the door of the wagon facing each other with Ichigo's hand next to his head as he guarded him. Even though his cheeks always heated up and he was sure he resembled a blond tomato, Izuru would never give up on those moments. Not when it was everything he could ever count on – those moments of unplanned closeness and body contact.

The warmth he felt radiating from Ichigo's body, even though welcome, made his heart ache. It was such an ambivalent feeling. Everything was ambivalent.

Izuru knew that there was no point in hoping, that he should give up on wishing for his own good. That dreaming would only make him suffer. Yet he couldn't stop yearning and wanting and looking forwards to the next time they'd meet.

Even if it hurt, even if it made his soul scream in agony.

Sometimes he thought of getting back to the life before Ichigo, to his colorless but peaceful days. It was boring in a way, maybe a bit stressful, empty even, but there was calm and peace of mind in that loneliness of his. But the second that thought appeared he knew that it was too late for him, that he was too addicted to the dull ache in his chest to be able to live without it.

Sometimes he wished for Ichigo to get bored of him, after all he doubted he was an interesting companion. He knew that the orange head had many friends – with such a magnetic personality, such charisma he was bound to be surrounded by a group of loyal friends.

Sometimes he wanted the orange head to notice the feelings he harbored for him and reject him. Tell him that they should just stay friends. Or that he already had someone. That there was no place for Izuru in his life.

Sometimes he believed that it would be better for him to just watch the young man from afar. To distance himself from him. Push him away somehow. But deep down he knew that Ichigo wouldn't let him go without a fight, because that was the way he was. One of the things he loved about him.

Sometimes he felt that it would be better for him if Ichigo stopped being so nice to him. After all it was that kindness that made the blond fall for him in the first place. That big gold heart of his. That overprotectiveness. The faith he had in other people.

It was that kindness and those strong eyes of his. It was the source of Kira's heart being filled with overwhelming feelings that contradicted and fought so much that he considered himself at war. The source of his bittersweet happy days. Of his boring life tinged orange.


	7. Ravenous

**Title**: Ravenous

**Pairing**: Renji/Ichigo

**Genre**: Angst/Romance

**Rating**: R for Renji's dirty mind; AU

**Words**: 874

**Warning**: angst, unrequited love;

**A/N**: Um, I'm not very satisfied with this. Even though it was on my mind for some time now it seems like all I can muster is angst and drama (DOD is occupying 95% of my thoughts) yet I'm too tired to get it to make sense. I kind of miss the old times when I could write RenIchi on a daily basis.

7th in Glance Collection

It was mesmerizing; how the little droplet slid down over the tantalizing skin of the man's neck leaving a glistening trail behind. He followed the journey of the bead of sweat with his gaze imagining chasing it with his tongue moistening the skin lazily in his wake; he imagined finally catching it with his muscle and the slightly salty taste it would leave; he imagined biting on the flesh beneath his mouth leaving imprints on it and marking as his.

The image lasted for far longer than it should, the tiny droplet already gone in the collar of the kid's shirt and Renji had to bite back the treacherous groan that was about to leave his lips. He wanted it to last longer; he wanted the drop to slide over the expanse of the orange head's back, between the shoulder blades, over his spine and further down to his lower back. Along the curve of his ass.

The redhead would never tire of watching his coworker, especially during those hot summer days that allowed Abarai much more than just a glimpse of that tasty body as Ichigo rolled up his sleeves or tugged his shirt when it felt too stuffy in the office.

Renji absolutely loved the heat that slid through the huge windows; no matter how hard the air conditioning worked the heat would not subside completely.

Still, it was a double edged sword.

He spent hours a day simply observing Ichigo, memorizing every curve of his lean body, every muscle visible under the shirt. He thanked whatever gods there were for the orange head's love for tight-fitted pants that showed off that perfect ass and long legs oh so darn well. Renji cast secret glances over to Kurosaki's cubicle whenever he could in hope of feasting some more on his beautiful form.

Because watching was all he could do without being pushed away.

Quite obviously the hunger was way too much for Renji to just sit still and make dreamy sighs. He was an action kind of guy and even though he knew there was a limit he mustn't cross he kept invading Ichigo's personal space on every occasion. Throwing his arm over the kid's shoulder as they went for lunch, leaning in close when Ichigo showed or explained him something, punching the boy in the shoulder or elbowing his side playfully when they fought.

He used every opportunity to get as close as humanly possible. And he enjoyed getting a rise out of the younger man because it was not just the kid's body that appealed to him.

They were friends. Coworkers. Working in neighboring cubicles. Always so damn close. Renji cherished the friendship, he really did. It felt good to fight with the kid every now and then throwing dirty remarks at each other or complaining about the mad-man boss they had over a bottle of beer or two. Ichigo was a stubborn brat, always up for banter and so dependable. He was much more than just a pack of bones and muscles in a pretty package. The orange head had a fire within him that drew everyone to him. And Abarai wanted that fire for himself.

Renji longed for him as a whole.

He longed and needed, wanted and hungered for. The stolen glimpses of skin and touches as his fingers lingered on Ichigo's skin longer than they should were not enough. It would never be enough.

He wanted a taste, the slightest hint of the flavor that his coworker had. Imagination only teased him with visions, but they were all about images and Renji needed more. Much more. He yearned to touch, to skim his hands over chest and abdomen and further south, to rake his nails and mark his flesh with angry red lines. To smell him, but not just the cologne the kid used, he wanted the rich, masculine odor of his body as he was fucked into oblivion filling all of Abarai's senses.

He needed to learn all of the sounds the brat would make when teased and taunted and held in his strong arms. He wanted to know how his name would sound in Ichigo's voice dripping with want, overcome with pleasure and ecstasy.

Each day was a fight to hold back, to keep his hands to himself, to keep his attraction to the boy secret. With each day it was more and more difficult as his hunger grew and intensified gnawing at his self-control. He felt so damn hungry it physically hurt.

So ravenous.

But he would endure. Because he was stronger than that. Than the dirty dreams of long legs pulling him closer and harder and deeper inside. Than his lips itching to kiss and bite and eat Ichigo raw. Inside out. Over and over again. Driving faster an–

"What are you staring at, moron?"

A voice broke through his train of thoughts and Renji blinked back to awareness finding himself looking straight into those scorching brown orbs. Cursing at himself for getting caught he managed a smirk.

"Just wondering if it's your natural hair color, dimwit."

Yeah, he would suppress his longing for the sake of remaining close to the kid. Because being pushed away might be the end of him.


End file.
